


Experimental Descent

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Kidnapping, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Inquisitor is kidnapped by a Chantry extremist that looks to exploit her in an unconventional way.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Experimental Descent

**Author's Note:**

> This is fucked up and I know it is, I'm just exploring writing and posting this kind of material for my own reasons. If you don't like the tags (which have been disclosed appropriately), please don't read. Thank you.
> 
> If you want a continuation of this sort of material please let me know in the comments.

The thugs corner them at a bottom of a ravine, backed up against an unforgiving cliff. Vivienne is barely upright, leaning heavily on her staff as she still manages to keep a barrier across them both. They had lost Blackwall and Varric earlier in the chase.

“Nowhere to run,” one of them taunts. He’s big, towering above Victoria, and his arms are nearly bulging out of the leather of his armor. “Best to come with us like we asked, Inquisitor. Make it easier for Madame de Fer here.”

“I welcome the challenge,” spits back the Grand Enchanter. She moves to attack, fire igniting at the top of her staff, but Victoria stops her with an outstretched hand.

“It’s alright.”

“Inquisitor-”

_ I’m not going to let you get hurt _ , says her gaze, cast as a spell towards Vivenne, who stands down with an unsatisfied frown on her lips. Though, she looks grateful for the rest, a hand moving to her side to cradle her ribs.

“If I come with you like you ask, you’ll leave Vivenne alone.”

“Gladly.”

And so, the Inquisitor goes.

* * *

It’s unceremonious, really. They drag her out of the ravine and onto horseback, leaving Vivenne alone, in the dust. The Grand Enchanter surely follows Victoria’s disappearance into the thick of the jungle, helplessly. The others would find Vivienne, and then they’d find her.

Wherever they were taking her.

They throw a cloth bag over her head at one point, when the light is filtering better through the trees into night time. Victoria counts each twist and turn, trying to remember, and trying not to panic.  _ They would have got me, anyway. Better on my own terms. _

Riding at tireless pace, they finally come to a halt - if her counting is correct - northwest of the ravine, and two hours from the nearest Inquisition camp in the area. They aren’t too careful getting her off horseback, and aren’t careful at all about how tightly they bind her wrists in front of her.

“Move.” One - it feels like the big one - shoves her from behind. She moves.

The cloth bag doesn’t give away much of her surroundings, not even in scent. It’s a nondescript… something. Not a cave, it wasn’t damp. It was more likely a small fort or cabin. There weren’t floorboards creaking under her feet, just dirt, but any of the old Ferelden outposts were ancient enough to warrant the filth on the floor.

A firm hand on her shoulder stops her somewhere, in front of a light source. A fire? It pushes her to her knees with painful force, but she dare not let them know that.

“Inquisitor,” says a male voice from in front of her, a smile evident in its tone. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. Let’s remove the ah… accessory, gentleman? I would like to see the face of my specimen.”

The cloth bag is ripped from her head. The fresh air is welcome, but the brightness of the burning wood fire in front of her is not. Her eyes ache at the adjustment, and she casts them down, to the feet of her captor. He moves closer, so she can see her face - nearly - in the shiny tops of his boots. He threads a hand into her red hair and tips her head back up to look at him, and she learns - interestingly - he is wearing a red and white Chantry robe.

“Nice to see the Chantry is disgracing itself more with every move it makes,” she offers in greeting, smiling up at him. He smiles back pleasantly, but does not release her hair. The urge to drive her head into his groin - at the perfect height - rises. Without knowing how many thugs there were behind her, though, made it not as tempting.

“I act not as the Chantry, but as the will of the Maker.” The cleric is rather nondescript: sandy brown hair peaking out from under his hood, pale white skin, and lines of age drawn across his face. His words just scream lunacy.

“Right. And the Maker condemns the Inquisition and its Inquisitor, hiring the best bounty hunters Thedas has to offer?”

“Of course. I needed you here, now I have everything finalised.”

That starts a sense of dread pooling in her stomach. If this cleric had a plan, this posed more badly for her than she had perhaps thought. “And what exactly would that be?”

The cleric smiles again. Now, he leans down, and completely surprises her by pressing a kiss to her hair. Victoria is too surprised to react with a well-deserved headbutt, and her words fail her as he continues, “O’Maker, grant us this power here, to preserve the power of the Anchor as it was foretold. Grant us your blessing, and the Inquisitor, her fertility.”

And again, when two thugs grab her from behind and force her down again, this time onto her stomach. “Let go of me!” She kicks, but another two are quick, arms seizing her legs, and then fingers working at the buckles to her leathers.

It clicks, suddenly.  _ Fertility.  _ Her pants are ripped off, and underwear, in quick succession.

_ Were they going to…? _

“No!” she screams, struggling with all the strength she can find, but it’s nothing compared to the four men that hold her down. They flip her over, even, in the middle of her kicking and screaming. “Stop! No!”

Now with a view of the room, she counts quickly:  _ six _ men, and the cleric behind her, makes seven. And then the horror sets in, because  _ all six _ also have devious grins on their faces as they watch the scene unfold in front of them. The tries to run the cleric’s words over in her mind again, to figure out the plan, to find a way out of it-

“What a beautiful specimen.”

Victoria is stuck, flat on her back, naked from the waist down. Her legs are forced open, one thug for each ankle - still garbed in her boots. They had literally  _ ripped _ her leathers off. Footsteps circle around her head, then down towards her bare legs.

The cleric looks fascinated as he looks her up and down.

She finds her voice, albeit high, “What are you going to? Make a whore of me?” The cleric chuckles at that, and crouches down now, between her legs. She arches up her head to keep her eyes trained on him, and suppresses a shiver when he is  _ obviously _ admiring her sex. “That’s not going to change anything, it’s just going to make my martyrdom worse.”

“This is nothing to do with the Inquisition,” he replies, and before she can protest, he glides a finger through her folds. The sensation is intrusive, horrible, and tenfold when he puts the finger into his mouth. “Just  _ you _ , Inquisitor. I’ve no need of your Inquisition if all the power in the world sits on your hand.” The cleric returns for a second inspection, this time prying open her folds with his fingers with one hand, and inserting another finger into her entrance. “And on your child’s hand, if I’ve got this spell right.”

His fingers push deeper inside of her. The intrusion is painful, but Victoria refuses to let it cross her face. Steely, she glares at him. “ _ Child? _ ”

“Why, yes. But not to fret, it would be wasting precious time if I explained the specifics to you.” He withdraws his fingers, wiping them on his robes, and then shares a nod with one of the thugs holding her shoulder to the floor. “Good luck, Inquisitor. I look forward to the results.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Victoria spits, as the thugs haul her to her feet. The cleric simply keeps smiling, giving her bare ass a pat as she is manhandled past him.

“I already have, my dear.”


End file.
